ZOOT SUITS ME
For the Canberra Times, 22 August 2006


Those Zoot Review celebrity ads are so folksy-retro, especially with that strange, blue-ish black-and-white effect, not to mention puzzling. Could Kerry Armstrong really believe that Cheerios are a nutritious breakfast? Why does Georgie Parker need to interview Nicky Buckley? Who is Alyssa-Jane Cook and why is she advertising car parts?

The ads are proudly labelled "unscripted", as if that's a virtue. Oh, Aaron Sorkin, we miss you so. The Zoot website shows global domination; here, Nicky Buckley chats to another mum about Dettol hand-wash (it's all so Algonquin round table!), but be grateful you're not in Canada where someone called Hayley Wickenheiser "talks hamburger helper", or in Asia where a Kit Chan flogs a face mask which causes "fairness".

Most TV ad presenters used to be jobbing actors reading their lines and being as sincere as they could. Now more celebrities, mothers, or doctors are giving a personal endorsement (although for ethical reasons we still can't see a dentist's face, according to a toothbrush ad.)

Just when stories seemed to ebb about the stupefyingly busy, impeccably groomed, tanned, mother-of-five, tippety-top plastic surgeon, gym-attending, marathon bike-rider who makes her children's school lunches, former Australian of the Year (take THAT you lazy mums!), Dr Fiona Wood turns up doing ads for a child's painkiller that makes her seem like a family GP, instead of the head of a state hospital burns unit. Well, why shouldn't she make a quid out of it, for herself or a favourite charity? What sort of person would prefer Courtney Love on crack, advocating gin to keep the kiddies quiet? Me, because it would make me feel like a better mother.

I suppose it makes more sense than getting medical information from a soap actor. Or winkling out of yacht-fancier John Bertrand that he likes chocolate. And what would Mark Taylor know about air-conditioning? Isn't he a footballer?" (Please don't write in. I thought Jason Akermanis was in Lord of the Rings.) Steve Irwin, however, doing a customs and quarantine ad, is relevant and persuasive. No more numbat smugglin' for me.

Dr Cindy Pan is a sassy GP and she wants me to drink modified milk; I wish I could remember which. And that other one who's a GP and belongs to a mother's group wants me to buy...something. So does the former netball star who's also a mummy. And Lisa McCune is the face of ... going to the supermarket. Sigrid Thornton looks about 19 which must only be caused by those shark tendon or herbal doovers I think she's advertising.

Unless the ad itself is amusing, or amazing to watch, who remembers what the brand name is? I only remember the celebrity, or questions such as "How much would she have got paid to say that?" Maybe the idea is that we'll buy stuff because a "good bloke" or a "good mother" or "pretty lady" tells us to. Quite frankly, if Sarah Jessica Parker dyes her own hair from a packet, I'm an otter.

Former TV presenter Libby Gore (Elle McFeast) has chosen to be the arse of a diet company, for what looks like a slender fraction of the budget and production values of their American ads with Kirsty Alley. Miss Gore won't make herself popular among eating behaviour specialists and those who see diet companies as money-making machines which thrive on repeat customers who mix up emotion with hunger, and size with happiness. "Have you called Jenny yet?" you ask. Well, if I do, I'll be giving her a piece of my mind.

Up the glam end of the pool, Collette Dinnigan and Anthony LaPaglia are doing credit card ads and Nicole Kidman got paid about 3.2 bersquillion dollars for flogging perfume. Cate Blanchett does magazine ads for that Japanese skin stuff, but presumably they don't pay enough for telly ads. She probably gets more than Sam "on the lamb" Kekovich, but I'd like to see them in an ad together.

By way of full disclosure, I once illustrated a pamphlet advertising mobile phones just before a report came out saying they might cause brain tumours. I have knocked back other ads, including one to be the face of a Thrush cure (but thanks for thinking of me), mostly because I would worry that if I help to advertise bananas, they'll immediately be proven to cause leg amputations. (Let's be candid, I'm not telly-famous and I'm hardly ever asked.) And because a no-ad policy means people who read my books on pregnancy and being a parent can be hopeful that I'm not paid on the quiet, Alan Jones/Telstra style, to recommend new, improved Poopo nappies.

It's better that the daggy Zoot-style ads are right out in the open where everyone can see who's paid to say what. In the USA, celebs including Lauren Bacall failed to disclose drug company payments when publicising their illnesses; the maker of that erection drug starting with V paid former presidential candidate Bob Dole to admit problems getting a stiffy. Given the choice, I think we'd all rather watch a conversation about Dettol. But it's a close-run thing.